chamharv

A shoutout to Annie,

The initiator of my slam poetry and my gay awakening.

Sixth, seventh, and eighth graders, every one of them forced to perform a slam poem in public.

Everyone around me hated it, everyone around me hated poetry, I had no opinions,

I played along.

I wrote the poem, as my school required.

Something about princesses, something vaguely feminist before I even knew what feminism was,

I wrote it as a joke.

I was already a joke.

I practiced it jokingly in front of others,

I practiced it seriously alone in my room.

Come the day of the slam and Annie is there,

An eighth grader while I am sixth,

And her poem takes everyone there.

The last line,

"And I don't know what to say."

The sickeningly ambient swirling blue backdrop projected behind her,

She left us all agape, without knowing what to say.

She was going to win.

If she was going to win, then I was too.

And so I performed,

Not how I did in front of everyone else,

How I did it in my room.

And I won,

And I was gone,

I was gone for good.

Annie didn't know what to say,

Meanwhile poetry had taken me away.